


Old Souls

by stone_in_focus



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Marriage, POV Kaidan Alenko, POV Third Person, Post-Game(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stone_in_focus/pseuds/stone_in_focus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whiskey, fedoras, and jazz. Best read while listening to Miles Davis' "Blue In Green."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Souls

With one arm hooked around Kaidan’s neck and a few drinks past sober, he and Shepard stumble their way back to their high-rise apartment. The doors shut and the shoes come off, but the lights remain untouched. Kaidan loosens his collar, ready to head up the stairs and slide into cool, crisp sheets next to a warm body; however, he pauses when he senses Shepard amble towards the living area instead.

A soft blue glow switches on at Shepard’s fingertips, the dulcet tones of ivory keys and the nostalgic whine of brass soon flowing through the overhead speakers. Kaidan knows the song all too well. He remembers how the music felt in his veins, how Shepard’s cheek felt pressed up against his as the smell of aftershave and cologne co-mingled in the space between.

 _"If you’re willing to take on a Reaper with me—all right, you’re pretty brave,"_  he remembers Shepard saying at the reception, _“but asking me to dance?”_

Shepard still swears he’s never one to ham it up, but the crowd had erupted into laughter all the same.

_"I s’pose anyone who’s that damn fearless is worth spending the rest of my life with."_

There’s a glimmer of acknowledgement in Shepard’s eyes as he passes a thumb across his chin and catches it between his teeth, as if to hide the smile working its way onto his lips. He slips off his blazer and steps over to the wet bar, retrieving a couple of tumblers and a bottle of aged scotch for the perfect nightcap. Shepard takes one drink and Kaidan accepts the other, watching as Shepard’s silhouette moves silently across the bay windows and sprawls out on the couch, the contours of his form illuminated by the neon embers slowly burning in the city below. He props his feet up on the ottoman and swirls the scotch in his glass, a sign that he’s waiting for Kaidan to follow suit and ease up next to him. When Kaidan finally settles in and rests an arm around him—a gesture he no longer has to pretend is innocent—a grunt of content resonates deep in Shepard’s throat as he closes his eyes and pulls down the brim of his fedora.

Funny story about that fedora. Kaidan was pretty sure they stopped making those over a century ago when Shepard dug it out of storage and dusted off the old hat, but it had still kept its shape.

 _"There was this girl I met one night on shore leave several years ago. Bought me this hat and said we were going swing dancing. Took my hand, then took my credits once she realized I had two left feet."_  A subtle half-grin had etched into one corner of Shepard’s mouth as he recounted the evening of rather unfortunate events. But there was always a silver lining:  _"I kept the hat, though."_

Turns out that even if that girl didn’t have class, she at least had taste.

When Shepard first put it on, running his fingers along the sleek ridges, Kaidan had felt a tug behind his navel, a brief clenching in his chest. Something about the flattering shades of heather grey and charcoal black made Shepard look like one of those leading men from his collection of nearly ancient Earth vids—the ones with debonair double-o agents, seedy detectives, and just about any title that fell under the traditional film noir genre.

 _"Huh,"_  was all Kaidan had managed to say, scratching at a throat that had gone considerably dry.

Shepard winking at him and doing some cheesy impression hadn’t helped. _"Here’s looking at you, kid."_

Now, hours later and bodies comfortably sunk into couch cushions, not much has changed. Kaidan angles his head towards Shepard, nudging him with an elbow. “You’re a bit of an old soul, aren’t you, Shepard?”

The ice clinks against Shepard’s glass as he brings it to his lips. “Yeah? Maybe.”

Kaidan decides he’ll be a sport and let Shepard enjoy the peace for a little while longer. In the end, though, he’s only human. There’s only so much a man can stand before leaning over to unbutton Shepard’s pinstripe vest and wrestle free his tie.

But as long as everything else goes, Kaidan won’t have any objections to Shepard keeping the fedora on.


End file.
